Sickness of Soul || Raphael
Hospitals were one of those things that Isaac considered to be a necessary evil. He wasn't so cynical as to think they didn't serve a good purpose, for the sick and injured needed care, but he had never been a fan of them. They were cold, and while they were places to become well again (ideally anyway) they always smelled of the sickness that they contained. No amount of sanitizer and cold, white, walls could erase the signature of sickness. If nothing else they only made it worse. A clean slate for infection and filth and death to spread. Isaac could already feel his face giving way to a scowl as he walked through the automatic doors. Here he was, back again for a check-up, and he still felt as fussy as he was when he was a child. Still, a scowl was not welcome in most places, so he relaxed his expression to bored indifference.
Logically he knew the place was clean and sterile and that he really had no reason to be such a worrier when it came to these sort of things. Everything was clean, and it wasn't like he was sick anyway. Still, as he sat and waited for his turn, filling out mindless forms on this and that, he felt his anticipation rising up in his gut. He knew his doctor, and he knew he should have been comfortable with him by now, but he just couldn't get over how invasive of one's space exams were. No matter how good for him he knew them to be there weren't many places on his body where an icy hand and an icier stethoscope actually felt any good.
His name was called, and he took a deep breath, handed in his papers and tried to silence any internal protesting to the smell of latex and antiseptic. He was a bit of a neat freak, but overly chemical smells were no less unpleasant than foul ones.
Everything functioning as it should. Strong as an ox. Should probably look into the cause of the shoulder pain. Same old, same old. An insurance card and the smile of a secretary as they scheduled next year's appointment. At least he kept up with it. The deed was done, and he could finally leave, but he was struck quite suddenly with the realization that he had nowhere to go. He'd taken the day off, figuring a mental health day would do him good. He'd be right back to the grind tomorrow, giving orders and making them. For now though what was there to do? The city offered many options, but he found himself wandering the prison of sickness and cold instead of the streets.
Isaac went onto autopilot, his mind providing a comforting white noise to fill in the spaces when there was no one to casually eavesdrop on. Eventually he ended up in the cafeteria, the smell of the 'food' bringing up not so fond memories of school lunches. He'd only wasted an hour at most, and there was still enough hospital space to occupy him for a little bit longer, but for now at a table seemed a perfectly good place to sit and people watch. Even if he didn't particularly like the place it did provide some entertainment, and at least cafeterias drew in plenty of people for him to watch lazily as he passed the time.
